


I'll Be Home With You

by lunapark



Series: The Long Road Back Home [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Military, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 04:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6641062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunapark/pseuds/lunapark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin thought he would get used to it all—to missed calls and failed Skype sessions, to sleepless nights and lonely mornings, to taking each breath and hoping that somewhere, oceans and miles away, Arthur was doing the same. To counting down the days until Arthur was back home again, safe. Alive.</p><p>He was wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Home With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fingerprintbruises](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingerprintbruises/gifts).



> I recently completed a 6-week pharmacy rotation at the VA. I never expected it to affect me so profoundly, but after meeting the many war veterans and hearing their inspirational stories, I left with a different outlook on life and a deep gratitude for the men and women who have dedicated their lives to protecting others. Much of this has been inspired by their true stories. 
> 
> For [Alexa](http://dameinthorn.tumblr.com/), who cheered me all the way through. I can't say thank you enough. ♥

**•••**

 

Merlin opens his eyes to pitch darkness.

It takes him a long moment to orient himself. The distant sound of a car passing by, its engine humming in the distance, reminds him that he is at home, having promptly fallen asleep on the couch after volunteering to work a swing shift in the emergency room. Merlin blinks his eyes and lets them adjust to the blackness of the room, knowing that despite it being very late—or, depending on how one looked at it, very early—he would be getting no more sleep tonight. When he sits up, the springs of the couch creak and Avery whimpers from where he's curled up on the floor next to him, head on his paws, a companion even in his sleep. 

Merlin reaches for his phone. There are no missed calls—not that he had expected any, but that doesn't keep the disappointment from settling deep and heavy in his chest, another painful beat alongside the worry and emptiness. His thumb hovers over the voicemail button for minutes before he finally presses it.

 _"You have no new voice messages._  
_You have one saved voice message._  
_To listen to your messages, press—"_

Heart in his throat, Merlin slams his thumb down against the  _1._

_"Hey, Doc, it's Arthur. I know you're going to beat yourself up about missing my call because you're at work right now, but don't do that—I mean it, Merlin, I can see your frown from all the way overseas._

_I can't talk for long, but—just listen, okay? I want you to do something for me. I want you to stop whatever it is you're doing, take a deep breath, close your eyes, and imagine me right there next to you._   _My hand in yours squeezing tight. I want you to keep that with you until I get back._  

 _I love you, Merlin. I love you so_ much _. More than anything. Never forget that._

_I can't wait to see you again. Keep smiling for me, beautiful."_

Merlin remains on the line long after the voicemail has ended, listening to the radio static. 

 

* * *

 

_"You look lost, Doc."_

_It's an embarrassingly long moment before Merlin realizes the comment was directed at him. He turns his head and sees a man about his age standing nearby, blond hair fringing his forehead and blue eyes made even brighter by the linoleum floor. He has his hands shoved_   _into the front pockets of his jeans and is watching Merlin with silent laughter in his eyes, his smile disarming._

_"I'm not really," is what Merlin blurts out first._

_"Not really lost?"_

_"Not really a doctor." When the man frowns, clearly confused, Merlin realizes what he must look like in his scrubs and white coat, and clarifies, "I mean, I am—but with some restrictions. I'm a medical resident."_

_He lifts an eyebrow. "Restrictions?"_

__"_ I have my license, but I'm still training," Merlin explains, waving his badge that says _Resident Physician _before realizing how stupid that must look and promptly stopping. _"_ Basically, I have to get all my patient care plans approved by a physician before going through with them." _

 _"Oh, I see."_ _He cocks his head and looks at Merlin appraisingly, quirking his lips. "Yeah, on second thought you look way too young to be practicing on your own."_

_Merlin is about to protest that he's not as young as he looks—he's twenty-six after all, and there are a decent amount of people younger than him in his class—but the man goes on, "So, that means you're lost."_

_Merlin hesitates, face flushing a bit. "Kind of."_

_"How can someone be 'kind of' lost?" he asks, lip twitching like he doesn't know whether to laugh or not._

_"Um, I know the cafeteria is around here somewhere. I passed by it earlier." Merlin leaves out the part about him arriving late that morning and missing the tour of the facility._

_"The canteen, you mean."_

_Merlin blinks. "The what?"_

_"This used to be an old military base, back in the day." He jerks a thumb out the window, towards the model war plane perched at the front of the hospital. "Some of the names have just stuck. Sentimentality, and all that. But the canteen is what we call the cafeteria here."_

_Merlin tries not to gape at him. "By 'we,' you mean—?"_

_The man huffs out a laugh. "God no, sorry," he says, rubbing the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. "I'm not a veteran. Not yet, anyway. I'm just visiting a friend upstairs."_

_This time Merlin really does stare at him. "You're a soldier as well?"_

_He nods and stands up a little straighter. Merlin wonders if he's even aware that he's doing it. "I am. Army, active duty."_

_Merlin tries to keep a neutral expression despite how difficult it is for him to reconcile this man's amiable disposition with that of a soldier. It's impossible to tell just by looking at him, but Merlin wonders just how much pain and suffering he has already endured. How many deaths had he witnessed? How many companions had he lost?_

_How many people had he—?_

_Merlin glances away guiltily. Doctor or not, it's still unfair to think about._

_His decision to move from Wales to America for medical school and residency meant adapting to a new culture and different norms, but instances like this never fail to shell shock him. Still, there is something about him so wholesome, so genuinely_ good _, that Merlin can't ignore._

_"Thank you for your service," Merlin tells him honestly._

_He flashes a warm smile, one that is all teeth. "You got it, Doc."_

_Merlin lets out a breathless little laugh and shakes his head. "You don't have to call me that."_

_"Well, what else should I call you? I don't know your name."_

_"It's Merlin." He takes a couple steps forward, holds out his hand. "And how about you, soldier?"_

_At that, the man laughs loudly and with his whole body, tipping his head back and baring his throat, the sharp angle of his jaw. Merlin finds himself smiling without meaning to._

_He takes Merlin's hand and shakes it._   _"I'm Arthur."_

_His grip is firm, but his hand is warm around Merlin's own. He gives it a gentle squeeze that takes Merlin by surprise, his fingers stiffening before they relax. Afterwards, Merlin shoves his hand in his coat pocket, the touch lingering and warming him all the way down to his fingertips._

_They end up having lunch together. When Arthur teases him for saying chips instead of fries, Merlin feels like it's the first day of the rest of his life._

 

* * *

 

Merlin finishes jotting down a quick note to himself to put in an order for pain pills and pockets his pen. "All right then, Ms. Caerleon, it's only a sprain, but—"

"Doctor," she interrupts, wincing as she tries to sit up in bed, "I thought I told you to call me Annis. You Englishmen are too damn upstanding."

Merlin rushes to her side and puts a hand on her back to ease her upright. He offers her a smile, chagrined, feeling very much like a boy being scolded by his mother.  

"Force of habit. Sorry, Annis." 

"You'd better remember that for next time," she says, and though she smiles, her eyes are like steel.

"I will." Merlin readjusts her sling, doing his best not to jostle her. "But like I was saying, you've got a shoulder sprain and a bruised rib. You're very lucky it's not any worse than that. You'll have to take it easy for a while. No heavy lifting or over exerting yourself. I'd like you to follow up with your primary care doctor in two weeks to assess your progress."

Annis looks a little put off, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Oh, all right," she sighs. "It's a shame I'm old now. I fell plenty of times back in the air force without even getting a scratch."

Merlin smiles at her warmly. "I have no doubt of that," he says. He's known Annis since the early days of his residency; patients like her are one of the reasons Merlin had stayed on, first as a fellow and now as an ER physician.

Merlin tosses his stethoscope around his neck. "If there's no more questions, I'm going to go ahead and order you some pain medicine that you can pick up at the pharmacy here before you leave."

"I do have one," Annis says.

"Yes?"

Her face softens into a smile, a genuine one that reaches her eyes. "Have you two settled on a date yet?" she asks, nodding at the silver band on his ring finger.

Merlin feels his face warm. Annis is one of the few patients he has that knows about Arthur, but he still gets a little flustered every time she brings it up. He shakes his head, laughing quietly. 

"No, not quite yet. We plan on deciding that once he gets back."

"And when is that?"

"Little over a week," Merlin says without missing a beat. 

 _8 days, 17 hours_.

Annis' smile widens. "You adore him. You should see the look on your face," she says. "It reminds me of..." When she glances down at her own wedding ring, Merlin's heart aches for her. She had lost her husband to a long battle with cancer less than a year ago. He can't imagine the kind of pain she must live with, never wants to.

"A love like yours is a rare thing. Cherish it."

Merlin runs his thumb over the metal band, remembers how warm it had been when Arthur had slipped it onto his finger. The way his hair had shined golden in the sunlight. The sound of his voice when he had laughed afterwards, giddy with relief and happiness. His throat goes tight and he has to force out the words.

"I do. Every day."

 

* * *

 

_Arthur snorts, the sound cutting in and out of Merlin's laptop. He sits up on the sofa and pulls the laptop onto his lap, desperately hoping that their Skype call won't fall through because of a bad connection like last time. He stares at the grainy, pixelated image of Arthur, who's staring back at him with a look that says he knows exactly what Merlin is thinking: that this is as close to seeing each other as they're going to get for the next few months._

_Eventually, Arthur breaks the heavy silence with, "Have you actually got baseball on in the background?"_

_Merlin glances at the television, just in time to see someone get thrown out for trying to steal second base. "Maybe."_

_Arthur grins, slow and easy. "I thought you said baseball was boring."_

__"_ I guess it's grown on me," Merlin confesses, shrugging. He doesn't admit that watching baseball reminds him of Arthur while he's away._

_"One of the many perks of being friends with me." Arthur leans back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, smug. "You're welcome."_

_Merlin tries to hide a smile. Fails. "You're such a prat."_

_"Cheers, Doc," Arthur says in a faux British accent that has Merlin doubling over with laugher at how horrendous it sounds._

_"So, plans for the weekend?" Arthur asks, resting his chin on his hand. Merlin still can't get over how different he looks clean-shaven with his hair cropped short, the color more brown than blond. His skin is tanner than Merlin has ever seen it. He wonders how long Arthur's been out in the sun, or if it's just the poor lighting in the room. Or some combination of the two._

_"Haven't got any," Merlin says. "I'm covering a night shift for Gwen at the hospital, that's about it though." He chews on the inside of his lip, hesitating. "What about you? I mean, aside from, you know..." He gestures vaguely. He feels ridiculous for asking—of course Arthur's not allowed to give him any kind of substantial answer._

_But Arthur just smiles at him, like he appreciates Merlin asking all the same. "It's Gwaine's birthday tomorrow. Tristan got permission for us to set some time aside to celebrate."_

_"That's good," Merlin says, and means it. "I'm sure he'll appreciate the sentiment." He wonders how birthday celebrations go during deployment, but doesn't ask, doesn't quite want to know the answer._

_Arthur snorts. "Yeah. He won't appreciate the lack of beer, that's for sure."_

_"Just tell him there's only three and a half months left before he can come home and binge to his heart's content." He starts to laugh at that, but stops when he notices Arthur isn't laughing. Instead, he's looking at Merlin with a sad smile, his eyes filled with regret._

_"I'm missing your birthday," Arthur says heavily, as though he blames himself for the fact._

_"It's not your fault, Arthur," Merlin tells him. Of course he's disappointed Arthur won't be there, but it's out of his hands. Merlin tries for a cheerful smile and thinks he mostly succeeds. "I'll have another one next year. You can get me two presents to make up for it," he adds with a wink._

_At that, Arthur huffs out a laugh while shaking his head, but he doesn't look as sad anymore and that's what matters to Merlin._

_"So, camping when you get back, right?" Merlin asks, quickly changing the subject. Arthur loves the outdoors and had been appalled to find out that Merlin had never gone camping before._

_"You bet," Arthur says, nodding. "I'll make an honest man out of you yet."_

_Merlin rolls his eyes. "Easy there, Boy Scout."_

_"That's Eagle Scout to you."_

_"My apologies."_

_"Something tells me you're not actually sorry."_

_"Then you'd be right."_

_"Har har."_

_The bantering is easy and familiar, a safety blanket that shields them from all the things left unsaid. Merlin is tempted to keep it up, but—no. Not this time. Without thinking, he rubs his hand down the center of his chest. There's pressure there, a heavy something that is trapped and pushing up against his ribs, like it's trying to get free._

_"I miss you," Merlin finally breathes out. "I mean—uhm, we all do."_

_Arthur could make light of it if he wanted to, could joke about it and bring them back to square one. But he doesn't. Instead, he says, "I miss you, too." Then, like an afterthought, "All of you."_

_Merlin swallows past the dry tightness in his throat, his heart starting to pump faster. "Arthur—," he tries, but stops when he hears the heavy trudge of footsteps._

_"Drills in ten minutes, Pendragon," someone barks and then leaves as abruptly as they had come._

_Moment shattered, Merlin exhales a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He feels a little lightheaded, his heartbeat slowing to a more regular rate. His stomach is in knots and clenches painfully as Arthur heaves out a sigh, sounding as disoriented as Merlin feels. Merlin knows what's coming next. In his periphery, he notices one of the baseball players strike out and throw his bat down in frustration._

_"I should go," Arthur says with a tone of finality that Merlin hates._

_"Yeah, best not to keep them waiting," Merlin tries to joke, but his voice cracks and it falls flat. His laugh sounds strained and artificial even to his own ears._

_"Merlin..."_

_But Merlin gets his word in first. He doesn't want to talk about it anymore, not like this, not until Arthur is home again and they can do it in person. "Take care of yourself," Merlin tells him. "Be safe, Arthur. I mean it."_

_"I will," Arthur says, but Merlin knows that just means_ I'll try _. The smile Arthur gives him is forced, not reaching his eyes. "I'll be back before you know it."_

_Merlin nods because he doesn't trust his voice to work anymore. His eyes are stinging hot and he has to blink rapidly to clear his vision. He looks at Arthur one last time, tracing the pixelated image with his eyes and imprinting it into his mind to give him something to hold onto. Fourteen weeks isn't long, Merlin tries to convince himself—not as long as twenty, one less than fifteen—_

_Merlin raises his hand to say goodbye. Ever the soldier, Arthur salutes him, and Merlin finds himself laughing._ _Arthur smiles at him with genuine fondness this time and mouths, "See you, Doc."_

 _Then_   _just like that, he's gone, leaving Merlin to stare numbly at his laptop screen._  

**•**

_"You do realize the whole point of this being_ your _birthday party is_ you _being inside to enjoy it, right?"_

_Arthur shrugs his shoulders but doesn't turn around to greet Merlin as he steps out onto the balcony to join him, sliding the screen door shut to drown out the noisy sounds of the party. Merlin sets his beer bottle down on the ground and joins Arthur where he stands at the railing, arms spread wide and hands braced against it as he looks out across the city lights._

_"My birthday was a week ago," Arthur reminds him._

_"You were also on a plane home a week ago," Merlin retorts. "Morgana spent hours getting her flat ready for your party."_

_"I needed a break," Arthur says, still not looking at Merlin. "It got too loud."_

_"Too loud? But this is... What do you Americans call it? Your 'dirty thirty?'"_

_Arthur barks out a laugh, though he simultaneously cringes and shakes his head._   _Merlin grins at him and jostles their shoulders, watching the laughter lines deepen around Arthur's mouth._

_"Please never use that term again, Merlin."_

_"But it made you laugh," Merlin points out._

_Arthur inclines his head. "That it did."_

_The silence stretches on and on, getting tenser by the second. Arthur has been home for five days now, but something about it feels different this time. Heavier. Like something between them has changed, though Merlin doesn't know what. In the years he has known Arthur, Merlin has never seen him this withdrawn. He glances at Arthur, who looks lost in his own thoughts, brows drawn together with a crease between them, jaw muscle ticking. A cold gust of air hits them, ruffling their hair. Merlin folds his arms over his chest, shivering, but Arthur doesn't seem affected though he's only wearing a long-sleeved pullover._

_"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Merlin asks quietly._

_Arthur grips the railing harder, then looks down at his hands and purses his lips. He stays quiet for long enough that Merlin thinks he's not going to answer, but then he lets out a loud breath._

_"We were attacked," he admits, voice hoarse._

_"You— What?" Merlin feels his stomach bottom out. "Arthur, my God, why didn't you—? What happened?"_

_"We w_ _ere at an elementary school, handing out supplies," Arthur says slowly. "I was inside with the kids, so I don't know how it... It all happened so quickly." His voice shakes. "I tried to get as many people out of there as I could, but there were too many bullets. I watched a little girl get shot in the stomach." He turns and looks at Merlin at last, eyes shining. "I picked her up in my arms. She was crying and screaming. I tried to stop the bleeding, but—my hands_ _were so slippery with her blood and I-I couldn't press down hard enough. She died in my arms."_

_"Arthur..."_

_"Eight years, Merlin. That's how long I've been in the service. Eight fucking years of training and drills and watching people die, but nothing could ever prepare me for that," he rasps. "I felt like a novice again._   _All I could do was cradle her tiny body in my arms."_

_Merlin feels his heart splinter inside his chest. As a doctor, he had seen people die, the young and the old alike. But it never got easier. He doubts it ever would._

_Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur, folds him in and hugs him tight. Arthur relaxes instantly, arms winding around Merlin's waist, face buried into his neck. "I am so sorry," he murmurs, stroking the back of his head, his fingers combing through the short strands of hair. "So very, very sorry."_

_Arthur doesn't cry, but some time later he lets out a shaky breath that Merlin feels more than hears, a warm puff of air against his neck. "That night, I couldn't sleep. I thought about her family, all the people she had left behind," he whispers. "Then I wondered the same thing about myself. If I died, who would I be leaving behind?"_

_"Don't..." Merlin squeezes his eyes shut. "Arthur, don't say that."_

_"My dead parents. Morgana. My friends... I thought they would be the first ones that came to mind." Merlin hears Arthur swallow, sticky-sounding and wet. "But they weren't."_

_Merlin's heart gives an overly large, sluggish beat. He curls one hand in Arthur's shirt to keep it from trembling._

_"No?"_

_"No, Merlin."_

_"Then who?"_

_Arthur pulls back just far enough to look at him, but his arms stay wrapped around his middle, keeping him there even as the ground beneath Merlin's feet feels like it's tilting. Arthur is silent, but his eyes glitter in the dim light, saying all the things that he doesn't need to, not when Merlin can see every emotion he is feeling reflected back at him. Merlin thinks of first meetings and first laughs, of goodbyes and welcome homes and all the unspoken things in between; and now—_

_"You."_

_—this._

_Merlin feels something loosen in his chest, like a lock unhinged. His pulse quickens and suddenly he is all too aware of how close they are, his fingertips still buried in the hair at Arthur's nape and the other still fisted in the front of his shirt. Merlin uncurls it and flattens his hand against Arthur's sternum, then moves to rest it over his heart without thinking. It's the hard and rapid pounding_   _beneath his palm that causes Merlin to realize what he's done. He slowly raises his gaze back to Arthur's face, ready to apologize until he sees the look on his face—one of pure awe and wonder, like Merlin is something he can't quite fathom out._

_Arthur's gaze darts to his mouth. Once, then twice. Merlin doesn't wait for a third time before he leans in to kiss him, a gentle press of their lips that has Merlin finally understanding what it feels like to have butterflies in your stomach. He means to keep it brief, but Arthur seeks out his lips again and this time he angles his head just a bit, kissing him full on the mouth._

_Their lips stick together when they part, chapped from the wind. At some point Arthur had moved his hand to Merlin's elbow and now he stays gripping it, his thumb rubbing circles there. They stare at each other in silence until, quite suddenly, they both burst out laughing. The pain in Arthur's eyes is still there, but now there's something else there to soften it—relief. Hope._

_"Well, that was new."_

_"If I'm being honest with myself, that was a long time in the making," Arthur tells him._

_The words take a long moment to sink in, but when they do, it's all Merlin can do to formulate words again, "Oh." He_   _blinks deliberately. "I didn't realize you were—um, that you liked..."_

_"Both, actually," Arthur says, smiling crookedly. "It's just that I've only ever dated women in the past. I never really met a guy I was interested in." His face softens. "Then I met you."_

_Merlin huffs out a surprised laugh. "Me?"_

_"I have a confession to make," Arthur announces rather shyly, dimpling beneath his mouth. "The first time I saw you wasn't when we first met—I, uh, I'd seen you earlier that morning. You must've been late 'cause you were running around the hospital like a chicken with its head cut off." Merlin ducks his head in embarrassment, but Arthur smiles at him, unbearably fond. "I had never seen anyone like you before, with your messy hair and high cheekbones, those fantastic ears—"_

_"Hey now," Merlin says without any bite._

_"—and I was so gone on you even then, Merlin. I stuck around all morning, hoping I'd see you again."_

_Merlin stares at him. "You— You were_ waiting _for me?"_

 _"Yeah." Now it's his turn to look embarrassed. "I'm glad I did, too. You kept fumbling through your explanations." Merlin flushes at the memory. "I thought you were so ridiculous and lovely, and then you—" his voice grows unsteady "—you smiled at me, and your eyes got all squinty like crescents, and it was the single most_   _beautiful thing I'd ever seen."_

 _Merlin moves his hand from the back of Arthur's head to his stubbled cheek, the pad of his thumb swiping across his mouth. "If_ I _am being honest with myself," he echoes, "then I have wanted to kiss you for a long time."_

_Arthur's smile widens. "We can certainly keep doing that." He kisses the corner of Merlin's mouth, then his cheek. "And other things," Arthur adds, lips brushing over the side of his neck._

_"Arthur Pendragon," Merlin gasps, acting scandalized, "are you trying to get me to come home with you?"_

_"No," Arthur tells him. "Not that I would mind, of course," he clarifies, causing Merlin to snort._

_Arthur pulls back to look at him, eyes searching his face. "I want to take you on a date," he says, "a proper one, where I pick you up at your apartment and tell you how incredible you look before we drive to an expensive restaurant and eat overpriced food and share a dessert."_

_"And then we go back to yours and have really amazing sex?" Arthur waggles his eyebrows suggestively and Merlin chuckles, shaking his head. "That is the stuff of the movies."_

_Arthur tugs him closer and leans their foreheads together, the tips of their noses brushing. "I do want to take you out on a date though," he says seriously, "if you'll let me."_

_His hand finds Arthur's and this time it's Merlin who squeezes. He was expecting this to feel new or different, but instead it feels very much the same. Merlin knows it isn't going to be easy, that it's just going to be that much harder when the time comes for Arthur to be deployed again, but he also can't deny how right it feels when Arthur slides his fingers in the spaces made by Merlin's own; they fit like they have always belonged there—and maybe they have._

_"I would like that."_

* * *

 

It's well past sunset when the doorbell rings. Merlin considers pretending he's not home so he doesn't have to answer it, but Avery spoils his plans, making a leap towards the door and barking as it rings for a second time. Merlin grumbles as he sits up on the sofa. It rings for a third time before he gets up and pads barefoot towards the front door, yawning and rubbing his eyes blearily, the extra shifts at the hospital finally taking their toll on him.

When Merlin opens the door, he's surprised to see Morgana on the other side, lips pale and pressed together.

"Hello, Merlin," she greets shortly. "May I come in?"

"Morgana, hi... Yeah, of course." He steps aside to let her in, shutting the door behind her. Avery takes one look at Morgana before scampering away, tail between his legs—he never did like her very much. 

Morgana ignores him, her attention focused on Merlin. He knows what he must look like, tired and unkempt, his hair a tangled mess and stubble that's starting to look more like a patchy beard. 

"What are you doing here at this hour? Not that I mind, it's just that I wasn't expecting—"

"It's about Arthur," she cuts in abruptly. 

His gut knots, a painful cramp rising up and making him feel ill. Merlin holds onto the doorknob for support. "W-What? Is he okay?" he asks, voice cracking. "Did something happen?"

"As far as I know, he's fine," Morgana tells him. Merlin closes his eyes and goes weak-kneed, sagging against the door in relief. "But it's not that simple... A couple of soldiers stopped by the museum as I was closing." She folds her arms over her chest. "His return date has been pushed back."

The air feels like it's been punched out of him. "For how long?"

Morgana looks at him, heavy-eyed with sadness. "I don't know," she tells him, sounding exhausted. "They wouldn't tell me. I argued with them, but all they said was that there was some kind of emergency and his flight home had to be delayed. They couldn't give me any more information. They were going to come visit you next, but I told them not to... I wanted to be the one to tell you, Merlin." 

Merlin doesn't realize his legs have given out until he's sitting on the floor. He chokes out a watery, broken little laugh, and draws his legs up to his chest, burying his face in his hands. He hears the sharp  _click click_  of Morgana's heels, and then she's kneeling down next to him, her hand settling on his forearm.

"I wish telling you sorry was enough," she whispers, "that it didn't sound so trite."

Merlin pulls his hands away from his face and looks at her. There's heartbreak glittering in her eyes, red-rimmed and tearful. He sets his hand atop hers and squeezes it, trying his best to comfort her.

"I miss him, too. He's my little brother." Her voice is reed thin. There's a strand of hair poking her in the eye, but she doesn't bother moving it away. "He's the only family I've ever had."

The silver band on his finger catches the light. Merlin looks down at it, at his own pale hand resting on top of Morgana's. "I thought it would get easier, you know, with time," he says hollowly. "I thought I'd get used to seeing him leave for months on end, but—no. The only thing I've gotten used to is this ever-present emptiness in my chest. I ache with it. Every time I watch him leave, I wonder if it's the last time I'll ever see him again."

Morgana moves to sit next to him against the door, her head on his shoulder. "I know how much you love him," she whispers.

"No, you don't," Merlin tells her quietly. "How could you, when even I don't understand that? I didn't think it was possible to love someone so completely, but here I am. My love for him is vast, infinite... I feel like I've loved him for an eternity. And it frightens me, because what will happen to me if I lose him? I can't imagine a life without him."

"He'll be back," Morgana insists, like she's trying to convince herself as much as him. "Soon, Merlin. You have to believe that."

Merlin doesn't reply, which is answer enough; it's not long after that he feels the hot splash of tears on his neck, one after the other.

 

* * *

 

_"Beautiful night for camping, don't you think?"_

_Merlin lets out a short laugh. "If you call setting up a tent in your backyard 'camping,' then yeah, definitely."_

_"Oh, come on." Arthur nudges him in the ribs with his elbow, eliciting a pained yelp from Merlin. "Use your imagination, Doc. Pretend we're in the harrowing wilderness, with no signs of civilization for miles. Just us and the elements."_

_Merlin gasps dramatically. "God, Arthur, look over there! What's that ferocious beast?" Merlin points at a small basket filled with pillows, a patch of golden fur and wet nose just barely visible underneath the blanket. Arthur groans, swearing under his breath._

_"It's—"_

_"Don't."_

_"—a_ puppy _!"_

_"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur says as Merlin doubles over with laughter. "You'll wake the little woofer."_

_"I thought his name was Avery."_

_"I rescued him. Therefore, I am allowed to give him as many ridiculous pet names as I want."_

_"Right," Merlin says mildly. "Anyway,_ _we're out of marshmallows for the s'mores."_   _He moves to get up, his backside beginning to go numb from sitting too long. "I'm going to run inside and— Oi!"_

_Arthur manhandles him back onto the grass rather effortlessly. Merlin mutters something about unfair use of brute army strength, but Arthur just hums in response as he moves Merlin to sit in the vee made by his legs, back against his chest. Merlin tries to be grumpy about it, but admittedly it turns out to be a very comfortable position and he ends up stretching out his legs and sinking into the warm, solid lines of Arthur's body._

_"Oh, this is nice," Merlin sighs, snuggling back against him, "very nice."_

_Arthur_ mhmms _his agreement, and Merlin feels as much as hears the deep echo of it in his chest—which is also very, very nice. Merlin grabs the blanket nearby and unfolds it, throwing it over them both. Arthur's got his arms around him, folding him in, and Merlin is so warm and comfortable that he thinks he could fall asleep._

_He must have closed his eyes at some point because a while later Arthur pokes his side. "Don't tell me you're asleep already," he whispers into his ear._

_"'m not," Merlin mumbles, voice already groggy with sleep. "Jus' resting m'eyes."_

_"Very convincing," Arthur says, but Merlin can hear the smile in his voice. He smiles too._

_Merlin considers dozing off again, but as tempting as it is, he knows it wouldn't be fair to Arthur, who had been so excited to go camping before realizing that it would be impossible to do so now that he had a puppy to train and look after. So instead, Arthur had decided to do the next best thing—bring the camping experience to Merlin in his backyard._

_Merlin blinks his eyes open and yawns. "What are you looking at?"_

_"The sky," Arthur says. "The stars."_

_Merlin tips his head back and looks upwards; the moon isn't visible tonight, but the stars are—there are thousands of them, littered across the night sky, twinkling like diamonds._

_"I'm deeply fond of the stars," Arthur confesses, "because I know whether I'm here or overseas, they will never change. The stars will always be the same."_

_Merlin feels a sharp pang in his chest as he is reminded of the few weeks Arthur has left before he must return to duty—for the first time since they had come clean about their feelings for each other. Arthur tightens his arms around him like he knows just what Merlin is thinking._

_"My dad was a soldier," Merlin says some time later._

_"He was? Really?" Arthur sounds surprised. Merlin nods. "You've never talked about him before."_

_"That's because I don't remember much about him," Merlin admits. "He was killed while on a mission overseas._   _I was very little at the time."_

_"I am so sorry, Merlin."_

_"I never asked my mum for details. She always put on a brave face for me, but I remember hearing her cry herself to sleep every night for months." Arthur squeezes his shoulder comfortingly. "As I got older, I promised myself I would never put myself through what she had to endure. I wouldn't have anything to do with a soldier."_

_Arthur's sharp intake of breath is the only sound he makes for a good long while. When he starts to remove his hand from Merlin's shoulder, Merlin covers Arthur's hand with his and keeps it there._

_"I broke that promise, obviously."_

_"What changed your mind?" Arthur asks quietly._

_"Not what." Merlin turns his head and smiles softly up at Arthur. "Who."_

**•**

_Their first time together when Arthur comes back is always like this—Merlin relearning the planes of Arthur's body, the slant of his broad shoulders, the dip of his collarbone, the toned firmness of his chest; his fingers lingering over the new muscles, the new scars, seen and unseen. And when Merlin tries to ask,_ How did this one happen? _, Arthur just kisses him quiet and works his fingers in deeper, promising him that there will be time for that later, much later, and Merlin holds him to it._

_It feels like it's maybe hours later and Merlin is sore, his limbs aching, exhausted. Arthur is farther down the bed, his cheek resting on Merlin's belly, his thumbs rubbing back and forth over Merlin's ribs. Merlin reaches out and cards his fingers through Arthur's sweaty hair, longer now already. Arthur raises his head and looks up at him warmly, his smile tired but content. When he drops a kiss to Merlin's navel, his stubble scrapes against the sensitive skin there and Merlin squirms._

_"What?" Arthur asks, looking and sounding amused._

_"It tickles," Merlin protests, then gasps as Arthur does it again, this time rubbing his chin more deliberately. "Stop!"_

_Arthur just smirks and kisses his way up Merlin's sternum to his ear. "Something tells me you enjoy it," he whispers, fingers ghosting along the inside of Merlin's thigh._

_"Prat," Merlin accuses._

_Chuckling, Arthur pulls his hand away and pecks him on the lips instead. Merlin refuses to kiss him back, but then Arthur starts pressing tiny kisses to the contours of his mouth, licking across the seam of his lips, and Merlin has no choice but to tug his head down for a proper kiss, mouths open and lips moving unhurriedly._

_After they part, Arthur remains hovering over him, his eyes never once straying from Merlin's face, drinking him in like he can't get enough. Merlin cups a hand around his cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin beneath Arthur's eyes._

_"No more raccoon eyes jokes," Arthur mumbles._

_Merlin laughs, the memory of Arthur's arrival still fresh in his mind. He had sprinted across the airport terminal and launched himself at Arthur, kissing him good and messy, Gwaine's wolf-whistles and catcalls be damned. It wasn't until after Arthur had set him back on the ground that Merlin had noticed how tan he was—everywhere except around his eyes, where his sunglasses had been. Merlin had laughed himself to the point of tears._

_"No, not that," Merlin reassures him. "It's just..."_

_"Just?"_

_Merlin looks deep into his eyes, at the Arthur he knows and has come to care so deeply about, whose kindness and compassion amaze him every day—and then, past them, at all the new pains and heavy burdens held behind their depths. He thinks of all the wounds he cannot see, cannot heal, and aches with how badly he wants to make things right again._

_"How do you do it?" Merlin whispers. "How do you not lose yourself in all that pain?"_

_Arthur looks at him for a long moment, as though the answer is written on his face. "I think of everyone that means something to me," he says at last. "Morgana, my friends... You." Arthur nudges the hand on his cheek and kisses his palm, making Merlin's heart beat faster. "It's easy to lose sight of who you are in an environment like that, to forget what makes you human. I've seen it happen. It's the scariest thing, Merlin."_

_"I worry about you so much," Merlin tells him, eyes stinging hot. "I can't even watch the news anymore because I'm afraid I'll hear about an attack on your camp. Every time I get a call from an unknown number, I'm scared to answer it because I worry that it's about you, that you've been hurt or—worse." Merlin swallows thickly. "When there's a knock on the door and I go to open it, there's always a part of me expecting to see your body in—in a casket, Arthur, and I-I can't—I couldn't bear it—if anything ever happened to you—"_

_Merlin doesn't realize he's crying until Arthur wipes away the tears from his face. "Hey hey, shh, Doc, easy..." Arthur kisses his forehead. "I don't want you to think about that, not even for a second. I'm back now. I'm here."_

_Merlin tries to tell him that he won't be back forever, that with each passing minute he's one step closer to leaving all over again,_   _but he can't get the words out, they hurt too much to say._

_"I—always miss you," Merlin forces out. "It feels like I lose a part of myself every time you leave."_

_"Merlin..." Arthur blinks and there are definitely tears in his eyes now. "God, Merlin, you have no idea how much I..."_

_Whatever Arthur was going to say is left unsaid. Merlin's heart thumps loudly in his chest._

_"You don't have to feel like that," Arthur says instead. He takes Merlin's hand in his own and brings it down to his chest, resting it over the strong_   _beat of his heart. Merlin is so overcome with emotion that he doesn't trust himself to speak, just flattens his hand and wishes he could keep it there forever._

_"I leave this here with you every time I go."_

**•**

_"Oh." Merlin stares. "Arthur?"_

_"Hello to you too, Merlin."_

_"You look—" Merlin blinks, then tugs Arthur inside_   _by the sleeve of his suit jacket and shuts the door to his apartment. He turns around and looks at him in the light, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. Arthur is dressed in a black suit with a pale blue dress shirt, fringe combed neatly to one side, looking as devastatingly handsome as ever, but that's not what Merlin is staring at._

_"That awful, huh?"_

_"Why did you do that?" Merlin blurts._

_"Do what?"_

_"You..." Merlin gestures aimlessly. "You shaved."_

_"Yeah," Arthur says slowly. "I did. I'm accompanying my boyfriend to a fancy medical dinner. I wanted to clean up."_

_Merlin doesn't reply, and now it's Arthur's turn to stare at him as though he is quite ill. "What's the big deal? I always shave when I'm on duty."_

_"Yeah, but now you're not. You're back and I'm used to seeing you with a beard. Or stubble. Even that, like, blond peach fuzz you get." Merlin reaches out and strokes his cheek; it's smooth and soft to the touch. He looks so much younger like this._

_Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin, tugging him closer. "Want to hear a secret?" he asks in a low tone._

_"A secret," Merlin repeats, nonplussed._

_Arthur clears his throat. "_ Technically _speaking," he says, looking at Merlin levelly, "I'm supposed to conform to army standards of facial hair grooming even off duty."_

_"Seriously?" Merlin asks, eyes wide._

_Arthur nods. "As you can imagine, Gwaine's never cared much for that rule," he says thoughtfully. "I stopped abiding by it pretty early on, when I saw one of the sergeants on vacation with the gnarliest, most unkempt beard I'd ever seen."_

_"Well, then don't do this," he touches his cheek, "again," Merlin says significantly. "It's too weird."_

_Arthur chuckles. "But if I did, I wouldn't give you beard burn that you have to pass off as a rash," he jokes._

_"I can live with the consequences," Merlin says solemnly, making Arthur laugh again._

_Merlin smooths down the lapels on Arthur's jacket, a tiny smile playing across his lips. "You didn't have to do this for me, you know," he says softly._

_"I know." Arthur matches his smile. "But you're presenting at this dinner and you've talked about it for weeks. It's important to you. That means it's also important to me."_

_Merlin loops his arms around Arthur's neck. "I am so lucky to have you," he murmurs._

_"Indeed you are," Arthur teases._

_Merlin rolls his eyes. "And_ you're _lucky that I love you and will let that one slide—"_

_The smile freezes on Arthur's face. Merlin's words catch up with him and his heart comes to a skidding stop._

_"What... What did you just say to me?"_

_"I said..." Merlin licks his lips and forces himself to look Arthur in the eyes, seeing all the surprise and bewilderment there. "I love you. I do, Arthur. I've loved you for quite some time now, I just—um, well, I never expected to tell you like this." He laughs shakily. "But I guess in life, things never go as planned."_

_"You always have to one-up me, don't you, Doc?" Arthur asks fondly, a slow smile stealing his features. "You kissed me first, you said you loved me first... I clearly need to step up my game." He looks at Merlin wonderingly, very much the same way he had looked at him on the night of his birthday party. "You know, if our life was a cheesy rom com, this is about when soft violin music would start playing in the background and the audience would see dreamy flashbacks of all the times we said we loved each other without having to use words." In that moment, Merlin's heart swells with more love than he ever thought possible. "You mean so much to me, more than you realize. I don't know where I'd be without you today. I love you, Merlin. More than anything."_

_Merlin laughs, a whistling puff of air from his nose. He feels breathless and a little lightheaded, like he's just finished running a marathon. "Did we just confess our love for each other in the dismal living room of my flat?"_

_"Three words," Arthur says, grinning at him. "Cheesy rom com."_

_"Almost." Merlin takes Arthur's face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over his cheeks as he leans in, their lips very close to touching. "Now it is," Merlin whispers. He presses his smiling mouth to Arthur's and kisses him tenderly. Arthur kisses him in turn, just as sweetly at first, but then more insistently when Merlin parts his lips, twists his fingers in Arthur's silky hair and musses it. It's a good long while before they stop long enough to realize that they're running late._

_Merlin arrives at the restaurant with less than two minutes to spare, Arthur's hand in his, and the biggest, brightest smile on his face._

 

* * *

 

"Up you get, sleepyhead."

Merlin smushes his face back into the pillow, mumbling, "S'my day off."

"I know." Merlin feels lips brush across the back of his neck, Arthur's sleep-rough voice in his ear, "That means we have to get a move on so we don't waste it."

Merlin rolls onto his side, right into a pair of warm and welcoming arms that hug him close. He nuzzles into the hollow of Arthur's throat, planting an open-mouthed kiss to the slightly damp skin. Then another.

"Mm, why?" Merlin murmurs, stroking his foot up Arthur's calf. "We could just stay in bed  _all_  day..."

When Arthur doesn't reply, Merlin blinks awake, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light and focusing on Arthur's gorgeous, smiling face. A lump settles in the back of Merlin's throat and he is suddenly overwhelmed by a crushing sadness that he can't place and doesn't understand. He raises a trembling hand to Arthur's cheek, pressing the pads of his fingers in. 

"Don't leave me ever again. Please."

Arthur looks at him, blue eyes filled with sorrow. "I'm so sorry, Merlin," he whispers. 

That's when it all comes back to Merlin—the voicemail, Morgana's visit, the flight delay, the medicine he had taken last night to help him sleep. Merlin realizes then that none of this is real, just a side effect of the sleeping pill, a sad little fabrication brought on by a restless mind and a broken heart. Still, Merlin fights to remain sleeping, unwilling to let this Arthur go, real or not; but the edges of the dream are already going dark and he can feel his mind drifting, slipping farther and farther away, back into consciousness. Into an unwanted reality with no Arthur.

"No, don't go!" Merlin cries, desperately clutching at Arthur even as things start to go fuzzy. "Please, you have to stay. I need you,  _please_ —"

"I will always love you."

Merlin wakes up screaming into his pillow, painfully and utterly alone.

 

* * *

 

_"What you did for that little girl today at the park was lovely," Merlin murmurs._

_They are twined close together on the couch, Merlin resting on top of Arthur, head tucked beneath his chin, drawing lazy little patterns over the thin material of his shirt. Arthur lets out a quiet, rumbling laugh, his fingers combing through Merlin's hair and scratching gently at his scalp._

_"That was nothing special," Arthur tells him. "Really, Merlin."_

_Merlin raises his head to look at him. "She fell off the monkey bars and scraped her arms and legs. She wouldn't hold still long enough for me to check if anything was broken. Even her babysitter couldn't get her to stop crying. But all it took was for you to pick her up and make her laugh until she forgot all about how much it hurt."_

_"You're the one that patched her up with the first-aid kit," Arthur reminds him._

_"Only after you distracted her with that story about the fairy princess defeating the evil mud monster," Merlin laughs. "Honestly, I think she fell a little bit in love with you. So did that babysitter."_

_"And what about you?" Arthur teases, wearing the same smile that had done Merlin in the first time._

_Merlin tries to act unaffected. "For some strange reason I'm already quite in love with you." His face softens when he remembers how gently Arthur had held the little girl in his arms, how he'd sat down in the dirt and wet grass without a moment's hesitation and pulled her into his lap. "You called her 'sweetness.'"_

_Arthur must have been caught off-guard by that because suddenly he colors. "Oh—that," he fumbles, flustered. "Yeah. My, um, my mom used to call me that when I was little." His expression is faraway and nostalgic, a little bit pained. "Whenever I'd hurt myself and cry, she'd pick me up, dust me off, and say, 'Don't cry, sweetness.' Those are my fondest memories of her."_

_Merlin brings him back with a soft kiss to the cheek. Though Ygraine had passed long before they'd met, Merlin is certain that Arthur had inherited his kindhearted, gentle nature from his mother. For not the first time, Merlin cannot believe this man is a soldier._

_"You would be a wonderful father."_

_"Maybe one day, once I'm..." Arthur trails off. He takes Merlin's chin in his hand, a gentle grip. "I'd like that with you—a little family of our own." This is something Arthur has considered about before, Merlin realizes, and feels happiness bloom within him, warming him from the inside out._

_"Look, we even have a dog to get us started," Arthur adds, nodding at the chew toy Avery had discarded next to them like a hunting prize before scampering away to his pile of blankets._

_Merlin snorts, but he can't keep the smile off his face. "So how many children, Papa?"_

_"Two," Arthur says immediately, like he has already thought long and hard about this. "A boy and a girl. Maybe a set of twins."_

_"Our future daughter will have you eating out of the palm of her hand." Merlin ignores the way his heart stutters at the sound of_ our _._

_"I know," Arthur says solemnly. "I'm screwed."_

_Merlin traces a finger down the bridge of his nose, over his lips, then back up to his eyes. The sun-darkened freckles Arthur comes back home with have since faded. "You do realize that having children means we'd no longer have free reign to..." Merlin looks at him pointedly, but Arthur just raises his eyebrows. "...well, you know," Merlin finishes._

_"Ah," Arthur says. "Right."_

_That's the only warning Merlin gets before Arthur flips them over, pinning Merlin to the cushions beneath him with his body weight. He looks down at Merlin and grins, a wide and boyish thing that is all teeth and laughter lines. His hands ruck up Merlin's sleep shirt, palming his ribs with calloused hands and making Merlin keen._

_"Only fair we get our fill in until then," Arthur breathes out._

_Merlin laughs softly and kicks the blanket away. He listens to the hitch in Arthur's breath as he hooks his legs around his hips and squeezes with promise. Merlin stares up at him; Arthur's eyes are dark and liquid blue, but his hands are amazingly gentle and steady even now._

_"Until then," Merlin agrees, and lets Arthur kiss him senseless._  

**•**

_It's late in the afternoon when Merlin arrives at the park; it's empty except for Arthur, who has his back turned to Merlin and is shoveling a pile of wood chips into the newly renovated playground. Merlin watches him work, sunlight washing him in a deep golden glow, hair bright and blond. His gray shirt looks damp with sweat and sticks to his back as he moves, working steadily under the hot rays of the sun. Merlin takes one more long, long look at the muscles flexing in his arms before he whistles._

_Arthur whips his head around, first looking bewildered and then slightly exasperated as Merlin waves, grinning cheekily._

_Arthur stands the shovel upright in the pile of wood chips and wipes his hands on his jeans. "And how long have you been there?" he asks, voice gone husky with exertion._

_Merlin shrugs while walking over to him. "A while," he says vaguely. "I was enjoying the view."_

_Arthur rolls his eyes, but there's a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He takes Merlin by the wrist and pulls him in close, hands immediately coming down to rest on his hips. He smells like wood and sweat and the faintest hint of his spicy cologne._

_"I'm feeling objectified."_

_"You're my boyfriend. Ergo, I am allowed to ogle your fantastic arse."_

_"Yeah?" Arthur smirks and curves his hand around one of Merlin's cheeks, giving it a firm squeeze that makes Merlin gasp. "Well yours isn't half bad either, Doc."_

_Face burning, Merlin shoves at him lightly before stamping a kiss to his mouth. Arthur catches his lips before he pulls away and Merlin lets himself sink into another kiss, the rough scratch of Arthur's stubble prickling his skin._

_"Mmm," Arthur hums after they've parted. "How was the ER today?"_

_"Hectic as usual," Merlin sighs. "Too bad I don't have magic to clone myself." He brushes the sweaty hair from Arthur's eyes, appreciative of the sympathetic look Arthur gives him. "I'm just happy not to be on-call this weekend."_

_"I'm happy about that too," Arthur agrees. "I get to have you all to myself."_

_"Selfish," Merlin teases._

_"Only when you're involved," Arthur clarifies. "Plus, I've made plans for our weekend."_

_"What kind of plans?"_

_All of Arthur's whispered suggestions are thoroughly filthy, which Merlin had expected, but he starts giggling anyway, which sets Arthur off too, and by the end of it they are almost hysterical with it. Merlin finds himself leaning against a metal pole to support himself, then suddenly realizes what it's attached to. A swing set. A swing set that had never existed there before._

_"Oh," Merlin breathes. "Arthur, did you put this up?"_

_"Leon helped," Arthur adds, red-faced and out of breath, "but yeah, we put it up earlier today. It hasn't been broken in yet." He tilts his head in its direction. "Care to do the honors?"_

_Merlin holds up his hands. "I'm not going to—"_

_"Come on, Doc." Arthur gives him a small push towards the belted seats. "Live a little."_

_Merlin plops down in one of the seats, kicking up bits of wood chips and saw dust with his feet. "The seat is comfy enough," he concludes._

_Arthur chuckles. "Well that's all fine and dandy, but aren't you going to have a swing?" He moves so he's standing behind Merlin. "What, are you scared we didn't build it sturdy enough?"_

_"I have the utmost faith in your handyman skills, but—" He squawks when Arthur gives him a hard, unexpected push and he goes flying forward. "Arthur!"_

_"Relax," Arthur calls, sounding delighted at Merlin's panic. "Just go with it."_

_"I'm—"_

_"Please tell me they have swings back in Wales," he jokes good-naturedly, voice fading in, then back out as Merlin swings forward again._

_"Shut up, Yankee Doodle."_

_Arthur laughs loudly. "Use your legs to propel yourself," he instructs, pushing Merlin forward on the backswing. "Hold them up— Yeah, just like that."_

_Each time Merlin swings forward, he is lifted higher and higher, until the air is whistling past noisily in his ears and he can hardly hear a word Arthur is saying. The midday sun is too bright in his eyes and the chains are digging into his palms from how tightly he's gripping them, but Merlin doesn't care. He realizes how silly he must look swinging in a children's playground, still in his scrubs no less, and that makes him start laughing again. Exhilarated, Merlin clears his mind and lets himself go completely, gives himself over to the feeling of soaring without a care. He feels drunk on it and hoots loudly, the sound reverberating through the vacant park._  

_Merlin isn't sure how much time has passed until he finally drops his legs and lets himself slow down, feet dragging in the wood chips. Arthur comes to stand in front of him, grin so big that his eyes are crinkled, and takes hold of the seat, forcing Merlin to a stop. He kneels down in the wood chips afterwards and rests his arms on Merlin's legs, looking as carefree and invigorated as Merlin feels._

_"Fun, huh?"_

_"Most definitely," Merlin pants, trying to catch his breath. "We need a swing set in our backyard."_

_"Honey, I'm afraid our backyard isn't big enough."_

_"Then we're moving," Merlin declares primly. "I want, like, maximum swing area."_

_Arthur shakes his head, a tiny, fond smile crossing his lips. "Every time I think it's impossible to love you more than I do, you prove me wrong," he tells him._

_Merlin smiles at him, not trusting himself to speak. There's a spot of dirt on Arthur's cheek that he wipes away as he gently kisses him, a soft press of lips to lips and nothing else._

_"Let's go home," he whispers after a while. "I'll give your feet a massage for a change."_

_Merlin gets up to leave, but before he can move, Arthur's hand encircles his wrist and keeps him there. He looks down at Arthur, who hasn't moved, who isn't smiling anymore, who is looking up at him with wide, serious eyes._

_"Arthur?" he asks, concerned. "Arthur, what's wrong?"_

_"I never..." Arthur presses his thumb to the inside of his wrist, resting it over Merlin's fluttering pulse point. "I didn't expect to ask you like this, but...you were right." A ghost of a smile settles on his lips. "I guess in life, things never go as planned."_

_Merlin feels as though his legs have turned into jelly. He grabs the chain of the swing to keep himself upright. There is no way, Arthur couldn't possibly—_

_"Growing up in a military family meant moving a lot," Arthur admits. "I was born on a military base and spent most of my childhood on one, up until my mom died and my dad decided to move. After that we never stayed in one place for too long. I was shipped from school to school more often than any kid ever should. I never had any close friends. When I turned twenty, I found out I had a half-sister. She turned out to be better family than my dad ever was." He smiles sadly. "But still, I was so alone. Always wandering, with no place to call my own. Then I met you, Merlin," Arthur looks up at him with so much love in his eyes that it leaves Merlin breathless, "and realized that home doesn't have to be a place. It can be a person, too._

_"I didn't know it then, but you came into my life at a time when I needed it most—at a time when I wasn't sure about anything, about who I was or where I was going. You've saved me in so many ways. You've taught me so much about life. You've loved me in spite of everything." Arthur chokes out a laugh. "I don't know what I did to deserve you," he says, voice cracking a little._

_"Arthur..."_

_"You know what's funny? In all our years knowing each other, we haven't even spent a single year together." He smiles ruefully. "My fault. Sorry about that."_

_Merlin lets out a soft laugh._

_"Every day with you has been a gift. I mean it, whether it's waking up and having you wrapped around me or seeing your beautiful face over a Skype call when I'm away. I know it hasn't been ideal—far from it, actually..." A look passes over his face, too quickly for Merlin to discern. "But I want this,_ us _, for the rest of my life."_

_When Arthur reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a thin silver band, Merlin gasps softly. He holds it out in the center of his palm and smiles up at Merlin, sunlight warm in his eyes._

_"Merlin Emrys, will you marry me?"_

_It's a long moment before Merlin is able to find his voice again. "Trust you to propose to me in the park where anyone could see," he rushes to say, dazed and breathless. "Getting down on one knee in a playground full of wood chips. Honestly, Arthur, I can't believe you sometimes."_

_"I'm waiting for an answer," Arthur says. He is shaking, whether with nerves or silent laughter, Merlin can't tell._

_"Oh, you great numpty— Yes, Arthur," Merlin breathes, finally pulling Arthur to his feet. "Yes, a hundred thousand times_ yes _. I want nothing more than to share my life with you."_

_Arthur presses his laughing mouth to Merlin's and slips the ring onto his finger at the same time. The joy Merlin feels makes his heart swell up, threatening to bubble out of him. Merlin cradles Arthur's face in his hands, in awe of the silver band on his finger and everything it signifies. He closes his eyes for a long moment, trying to lock all of this in his memory—Arthur's sunlit hair, his crinkling smile, Arthur looking at him like he is his entire world. When Merlin opens his eyes again, he is met with Arthur's soft gaze._

_"I guess I can't call you my boyfriend anymore," Merlin considers wonderingly. "You're my fiancé now."_

_"Fiancé," Arthur repeats slowly, as if savoring the word. "Yeah. I like the sound of that."_

* * *

 

"I haven't heard anything more either," Isolde says after Merlin gets through explaining what Morgana had told him. "I'm so sorry, Merlin. I wish I knew more, believe me."

"I do," Merlin says, offering her a weak smile. If anyone knows what he's going through, it's Isolde, whose husband Tristan is on leave too. 

They fall into a heavy silence. Isolde finishes her tea while Merlin stares into his own cup, untouched. "You haven't been sleeping," she says without preamble. 

"No," Merlin replies, though it hadn't been a question. "I can't. I get maybe a few hours a night if I'm lucky. That's why I've taken extra shifts at the hospital—at least that way I get so tired that sleep comes a little more easily." It's the most he's admitted to anyone in weeks.

"Have you tried..."

"Pills?" Merlin offers bluntly. "I can do without the dreams they give me." He closes his eyes against the onslaught of fragments from his dreams, all about Arthur, all ending the same way. "They're too real." The crushing disappointment is too much to bear.

"How do you do it?" Merlin asks suddenly, looking at Isolde with a panicked desperation in his eyes. "How can you stand to see him leave and just go on with your life?"

Isolde regards him for a long moment, her eyes nothing but understanding, like maybe she's asked herself the same thing hundreds of times in the past. "Because I know that's what he would want me to do," she says simply, stunning Merlin into silence. 

"It never gets easier, does it?" he asks hoarsely some time later. 

"If only it did," Isolde replies, smiling brokenly, her eyes shining with tears. "I've been going through this since I was eighteen, and each time it feels like it's the first all over again."

Merlin glances away, disgusted at himself for how selfish he's being, for forcing his burden onto someone else. He never meant to upset Isolde, and now he's put her on the verge of tears. Coming here was a mistake, he realizes. "I'm sorry," he gasps, voice breaking. "I shouldn't've... I'll go, I never meant to— God, I'm so sorry—" 

But when he stands, Isolde reaches across the table and takes his hand in both of hers. "It's all right, Merlin," she tells him. "Please, sit."

Reluctantly, Merlin sits back down, staring at their hands, at Isolde's beautiful wedding ring—Arthur had told him the story about how Tristan had saved up the money to buy her a proper ring and gifted it to her for their tenth wedding anniversary. The corner of his mouth hitches into a tiny smile.

"You know what I absolutely hate?" Isolde asks, pulling him back from his thoughts.

"What?"

"When people ask me, 'How do you deal with being a soldier's wife?'  _Deal with_ ," she scoffs, her eyes red and watery. "Like it's some unpleasant chore. Like I had no idea what I was agreeing to when Tristan signed up for the army." She looks at Merlin steadily in the eyes. "He knew how hard it was going to be, you know. He even gave me the choice to...to call things off. As if I could ever do that." She smiles and shakes her head. "I knew exactly what it was going to mean, for the both of us—the worry, the loneliness, the emotional roller coasters. But I would choose that any day over a life without him."

Merlin hesitates only a second before asking, "What do you do on the days you miss him the most?" 

Isolde blinks and a tear rolls down her cheek, breaks his heart. "I remember him. Remember us."

 

* * *

 

_For Merlin, the hardest part isn't the day Arthur has to leave for deployment; it's all the days leading up to it, when Arthur gets his hair cropped short, when he pulls out his uniform from the closet, when he starts clearing out his essentials from their bathroom—that's when it truly hits Merlin that Arthur is leaving again._

_They make love the night before, Arthur lazily thrusting in and out of his warm, willing body for what seems like hours, pressing kisses to his temple, murmuring endearments in his ear, telling him how much he loves him, that he'll be back before Merlin even has a chance to miss him. Merlin doesn't tell Arthur that he misses him already, but he holds Arthur close to his body, deep inside, and kisses him hard, knowing that Arthur will understand anyway._

_Afterwards, Merlin lies awake in his arms, tightly curled around Arthur, listening to the deep sounds of his breathing and staring at the red numbers on the digital clock, desperately wishing for morning to never come. At some point, exhaustion must win and pull him into a restless sleep because the next thing Merlin knows, pale rays of sunlight are pouring into their bedroom and Arthur is stroking his cheek to wake him._

_"'Morning, lazy daisy," he greets, putting on a smile that Merlin knows is contrived._

_"It can't be morning already," Merlin croaks, devastated._

_Instead of answering, Arthur leans down and kisses him, Merlin immediately clutching the back of his head to pull him closer. They kiss slowly, their unhurried movements a stark counterpoint to the urgency in the air. Merlin closes his eyes and lets himself drift off, tuning out everything but the soft, wet slide of Arthur's mouth against his own and pretending they have all the time in the world._

_It's only with practice that Merlin keeps his emotions reeled in for the rest of the morning. They eat breakfast in silence, Merlin taking tiny bites of burnt toast that he hardly tastes, his mouth too dry to chew. He keeps his eyes on his plate, looking at anything but Arthur dressed in his camouflaged uniform. When Arthur reaches over and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together, Merlin almost starts to cry._

_"Arthur..."_

_"When I come back, we settle on a date," Arthur says, lifting their joined hands to kiss the silver band on Merlin's ring finger. "Deal?"_

_Merlin chokes out a watery little laugh. "Deal."_

_Watching Arthur say goodbye to Avery nearly breaks him. Avery licks his face, whimpering mournfully as Arthur scratches behind his ears and tells him to keep Merlin company while he's gone. Avery has always been especially in tune with his master, and now is no exception. "I'm counting on you, buddy," Arthur whispers, hugging him close and kissing the soft golden fur on top of his head. Merlin turns away, blinking back tears._

_When they reach the airport, Merlin parks the car at the drop-off area, near the entrance gate for the departures. He has hardly any recollection of the drive to the airport, only remembers the warm, comforting weight of Arthur's hand on his leg during the entire ride over._

_Now, Merlin sucks in a breath and turns to look at Arthur, who's smiling though his lashes are wet and stick together._

_"I'll be back, Merlin,"_   _Arthur reminds him. "Before—"_

 _"—I know it," Merlin finishes for him, smiling tearfully._

_"I love you," Arthur says softly, surely._

_"And I love you," Merlin tells him. "Now and always."_

_Merlin squeezes his eyes shut as Arthur kisses him, committing the soft, trembling press to memory, the realization that this is the last time he gets to kiss Arthur for months a hard, swift punch. Arthur presses a final lingering kiss to his forehead before he opens the car door, shouldering his bag._

_"Arthur," Merlin calls out, frantic._

_Arthur turns around, his eyes red and damp._

_"Be safe."_

_Arthur grins, that same sunny grin Merlin falls a little bit more in love with every time he sees it. "You got it, Doc."_

_Merlin watches him go, the aching heaviness in his chest threatening to smother him, stealing his breath. It's after Arthur has disappeared through the airport gates that Merlin hears a loud, rasping sob that he scarcely recognizes as his own. He clamps his hand over his mouth, trying to smother it, but it's no use—he's been holding it in for hours (days? weeks?), and now he's too hurt and scared and broken to keep it in anymore; Merlin gives in and allows himself to cry at last, feeling bereft, like he has just lost half his life, his heart, his entire world._

 

* * *

 

In the coming weeks, the days and nights blur into an endless, unforgiving cycle. Merlin throws himself into his job as a distraction, taking on as many extra shifts in the ER as he's legally allowed. It helps ground him, keeps him feeling productive and is an escape from his racing thoughts. Merlin loves what he does, the satisfaction he gets from treating his patients making him feel like he's made a real difference in the world, no matter how small. Sometimes family members will leave behind little thank you notes that Merlin finds in his mailbox in the doctor's lounge—he keeps each and every one, deeply touched.

He thinks it's early Thursday morning when Gwen finally sends him home, insisting on working his weekend swing shifts so he can have a long weekend to rest and rejuvenate. Merlin wants to tell her that the last thing he will be doing is relaxing, but by now he knows better than to argue with Gwen, so he relents and goes home, left alone to the mercy of his own thoughts once again.

The numbness that settles over Merlin as he gets into his car and drives home is a welcome companion; he keeps his mind resolutely clear, refusing to turn on the radio to listen to the news—he doesn't want to hear about any of it. Merlin knows that if something had happened, either he or Morgana would've been contacted. He refuses to think about any other alternative.

Merlin drives home in a daze, squinting against the early morning sunshine, his head throbbing from lack of sleep. Exhaustion hits him like a hard shove on the back once he returns home. The blinds are still closed, just as he had left them last night before leaving, washing the house in a cool darkness that lessens the pulsing in his temples. Avery comes bounding up to him immediately, panting with a chew toy between his teeth.

"Maybe later, boy," Merlin says. When Avery sets down the toy at his feet, nudging his hand with his forehead, Merlin sighs and crouches down to scratch his neck in apology. "Let me clean up and take a nap first, then I promise I'll take you to the park. Sound good?"

Avery wags his tail and barks once, loudly.

Merlin flinches, but he's laughing too, and pats his head affectionately. "I'll take that as a yes." 

Avery barks again before he leaps away towards the backyard door and lies down on the floor, head on his paws, waiting. Merlin shakes his head and starts stripping off his scrubs on his way to the shower. He rubs a hand over his face, feeling the early scratch of stubble against his palm, but he ignores it—if the hospital doesn't expect him back until next Monday, he can forgo shaving until then.

Once inside the bathroom, Merlin turns on the water and avoids looking at himself in the mirror, letting the steam fog the glass before he steps inside. For a few seconds he just stands beneath the steady stream, the warmth easing some of the tension out of his aching muscles. When he goes to wash his hair, he picks up Arthur's bottle of shampoo by accident and feels his stomach knot with a painful cramp. It's nearly empty. Typical Arthur, Merlin thinks, to leave it sitting in the shower, not bothering to throw it away. 

Merlin blanks his mind and finishes the rest of his shower quickly, his movements mechanical and efficient. He dries himself off hastily and pulls on a worn old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, cloth sticking uncomfortably to the damp patches of his skin. Suddenly, the bathroom feels too small, the steam making the air too heavy and condensed. Merlin doesn't bother with combing his hair, just scrubs it dry with a towel before pushing open the door and sucking in a deep breath of cool, dry air. 

When Merlin goes into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, Avery is still curled on the floor. He lifts his head expectantly as Merlin pads in, but sags back down on the floor once he notices Merlin is heading towards the stove. Merlin feels a pang of guilt and leans down to rake a hand through his soft fur. 

Merlin has just gotten the water to a boil when Avery jumps to his feet and begins yipping, sudden and unexpected. Merlin lets out a low groan and rubs his temples.

"Easy, boy, I told you we could go to the park later."

But this time, Avery ignores him and starts running around the kitchen, collar jingling. His barks are even louder now, sharper and more urgent. He comes up to Merlin, tongue hanging out of his mouth, and nudges him towards the door.

"Avery," Merlin says, more sternly now, "I said later—" 

Avery interrupts him with another enthusiastic bark. He leaps out of the kitchen and runs towards the front door. Merlin watches him go, exasperated and slightly annoyed; he's used to their dog being randomly hyperactive, so he doesn't think much of it and instead grabs a mug out of the cupboard, pouring the hot water into it. But the next time Avery barks, it's so loud and insistent that Merlin nearly spills the water onto his hand and burns himself. 

"Avery!" Merlin snaps.

When Avery starts pawing at the door like he wants to get out, Merlin decides he's had enough. He stalks over to the front door and opens it a crack, just enough to let Avery run outside.  _There_. That'll keep him busy. There's a small picket fence surrounding their front yard that will keep Avery from running out into the streets, so Merlin isn't worried. He'll let Avery run around for a while, finish his tea, and then let him back inside.

Merlin is halfway to the kitchen when Avery's barking resumes, this time sounding more excited than anything, punctuated by rapid panting. He shrugs it off, thinking Avery is probably chasing a squirrel, or—

Then Merlin hears it, loud and clear: a laugh.

He  _knows_  that laugh.

His heart stops. 

Merlin closes his eyes, stops moving, stops  _breathing_ , and strains his ears to listen, trying to hear over the thunderous pounding of his heart. He doesn't dare let himself believe it—knows that if he does, the disappointment will be that much more heartbreaking, but even so Merlin feels something begin to stir in his chest, light and free and warm, like the gentle fluttering of a bird's wings. 

The second time Merlin hears the laughter, he doesn't hesitate; he acts. He lurches towards the door, breathing hard, and flings it open. The sight that greets him takes his breath away, makes him so unsteady that his knees buckle and he has to lean against the doorframe. 

Because it's  _Arthur_. 

Arthur, sitting on the damp grass of their front lawn, his bag thrown carelessly aside. Arthur, with his fingers buried in Avery's golden fur, laughing softly with his face tilted up towards the sun. Arthur, alive and real and  _home_ at long last. 

Merlin wants to call out for him but he can't get his voice to work. Time seems to stand still, then starts back up again as Arthur finally,  _finally_  looks up, eyes settling on Merlin and his face going soft with surprise, looking at Merlin with such raw tenderness that Merlin's eyes fill with tears. Arthur gives Avery one more pat on the head before he stands, gaze not once straying from Merlin, taking him in.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes, beautiful." 

Merlin tries to stand upright, takes a step towards Arthur and stumbles, scraping his palms on the pavement. He pushes himself up into a wild run, his legs shaking uncontrollably, like a brittle leaf in the wind. Tears blur his vision and he keeps stumbling, his bare feet slipping in the wet grass. Distantly, he is aware of Avery running around their yard, happy and full of energy. Merlin lets out a gasp, the long, sleepless months full of fear and worry suddenly all worth it—for this, for _him_ , always for him.

"Arthur," Merlin chokes out. " _Arthur_."

Merlin jumps right into Arthur's wide open arms, wrapping his legs around him tightly, fitting himself to his body and hugging him. He almost expects Arthur to disappear, but he doesn't, just holds him up and hugs him right back; and though Arthur is the one who's just returned, it's Merlin who feels like he's finally come home. Merlin begins to cry—loud, hiccuping sobs being ripped out from his throat, the pent-up exhaustion giving way at long last. 

"They wouldn't tell me," Merlin sobs, face buried in his neck. "I thought— When you didn't come back, I thought—I didn't know if you were—"

"I'm here," Arthur whispers, sounding choked. "I'm right here, Merlin. I'm back. I'm home."

Merlin takes Arthur's face in his hands and kisses him long and hard and desperate, quieting a sob against his mouth, pouring out all the months of loneliness and heartache, of not knowing; he tastes the salt between their lips and realizes Arthur is crying too, his cheeks damp and sticky. His hands clutch on either side of Arthur's head and that's when he feels the bandage on his temple. Merlin breaks the kiss and looks at him, eyes trailing over Arthur's face and lingering on the stitches just above his left brow, the red gash down his right cheek. His face is unshaven, his hair long and messy, like he hasn't cut it in weeks. 

"Arthur," Merlin gasps, eyes wild. "God, what... What happened to you?" And as the relief of having Arthur home starts to settle in minutely, his mind begins to race. "How did you get home? Why didn't you call?"

Arthur sets him back on the ground and closes his eyes, his face scrunched up in pain. When he looks at Merlin again, face drawn and thin, there's a heaviness in his eyes Merlin has never seen before.

Something is  _wrong_. 

"Arthur... What's happened?" he asks slowly. He isn't sure if he really wants to know the answer. 

"Gwaine dropped me off," Arthur says, swallowing hard. "We went to see Isolde." 

"Isolde? But wh—" Merlin goes wide-eyed and sways on his feet until Arthur steadies him. "Oh God, no, you can't mean—please,  _no_ —"

"It's Tristan," Arthur croaks, his hands tightening around Merlin's arms. "He... He didn't make it."

Merlin thinks of Isolde and listens to the sound of his heart shattering.

 **•**  

Once they're back inside, Arthur pulls off his boots and sinks down onto the floor, raking his hands through his tangled hair until Merlin pries them away and holds them in his own. Arthur stares down at their hands, mute. Merlin has never seen him like this, so lost and confused and  _broken_ , and it scares him, makes him ache with the urge to heal and protect.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Merlin whispers. 

It's some time before Arthur finally speaks, his voice rough. "I only remember pieces," he admits, a faraway look on his face. "Our unit was split during a mission. It was supposed to be a routine thing, but...it turned into chaos. There was an attack, a bombing. I remember trying to get away, but then I felt a huge blow to the head. When I came to, I was blindfolded, gagged, and tied up with another soldier. Later I would find out it was Tristan."

Merlin feels like he's going to vomit. "You...were kidnapped?" he forces out. 

Arthur's hands stroke his own—and that's just like Arthur, to give comfort even when he's the one who needs it most. "That's why I couldn't come home on time," he tells him.

Merlin can't help but stare at the cuts and bruises on Arthur's face. "They did that to you," he rasps, sick to his stomach. "They hurt you."

"It could have been much worse. We were being used as bait is how I understood it. For what, I don't know, but as long as we cooperated, they wouldn't kill us." Arthur glances away. "They fed us enough to keep us alive. They drugged us, kept us sedated... I lost all track of time, didn't know how many days had passed, whether it was morning or night. But it felt like a small mercy sometimes." Arthur smiles thinly. 

Merlin clasps his hands tightly. "How did you get away?"

"Our unit found out where we were," Arthur says. A dark look crosses his face. "When our captors realized they were surrounded with nowhere to run, they were ordered to kill us. Tristan was first. They took off my blindfold, made—me watch." His voice trembles, just like his hands in both of Merlin's. "He told me to—to tell Isolde that he loved her, that he was sorry he had to leave her like this, that—all he ever wanted was to spend his life with her. I'd never seen him cry before, Merlin." Arthur stares at him with wide, bloodshot eyes, looking pale and haunted. "I couldn't do anything. I was frozen. I watched them shoot him in the head. His blood...was everywhere, on my clothes and skin. I knew I was next, but even so—a foolish part of me wanted to ask if I could call you. To hear your voice one last time." A sob escapes Merlin's lips, the thought of Arthur being shot  _dead_  drilling a hole right through the center of his chest. "Then they struck me across the face and everything went black. When I woke up, I was in the hospital, hooked up to monitors and on a drug withdrawal protocol."

"A-Arthur—" 

"I wanted to tell you," Arthur breathes, eyes frantic and searching. "I knew you were worried. I wanted to call you, tell you that I was fine, but I—I was in shock, mentally and physically drained, hardly in my right mind. I regret it, I regret it  _so much_. It kills me to imagine what you've gone through. I should've had someone tell you. I'm so sorry, Merlin, I'm so, so—" 

Merlin all but throws himself at Arthur, circling his arms around his shoulders and clutching the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair. "Enough," he murmurs into his ear. "That's enough, Arthur." 

Arthur slumps against him, whispers, "I'm sorry."

"I know you are, love." Merlin exhales a shaky breath. "But we can talk about that later, I promise. Right now... Right now you've come back to me. You're home,  _alive_."

In spite of everything, that's all that mattered.

**•**

Merlin lets Arthur shower before he cleans and redresses his wounds, swabbing at the cut on his cheek with a cotton ball covered in disinfectant. Merlin knows it must sting, but Arthur doesn't flinch, just sits on their bed with his hands flat on his knees, staring straight ahead, as still and motionless as a statue. Merlin wants to say something and break the heavy silence, but he doesn't know what, still in disbelief that Arthur is really home again—it feels like a dream. He has bitten into the fleshy inside of his lower lip so many times that it stings. He runs his tongue over it and winces, then notices Arthur is looking up at him, watching him in silence.

Merlin combs his fingers through Arthur's hair fondly. "What are you looking at?" 

Arthur gives a small twitch of his lips. "You, of course." Abruptly, he grows somber, his gaze intent on Merlin as he says, "I've missed this face."

"I thought of you every day," Merlin whispers. "I missed you more than you know."

Arthur looks at him for a moment longer before gently taking Merlin's wrists in his hands and placing a chaste kiss to each delicate underside. "Have I ever told you why I joined the service?" he asks.

Merlin shakes his head. It's something he'd often thought about asking, but had never found a way to broach the subject without prying.

"It's not because my dad made me." The edge of his mouth pulls up in a wry half-smile that quickly disappears. "It was a conscious decision I made... I told you before that I'd been alone my whole life. There's more to it than just that." His gaze drops to Merlin's wrists. "I had no will to live, no purpose. I didn't think my life was worth anything."

Merlin stings like he's just been slapped. " _What_?"

"My mom was dead. My dad didn't give a shit about me. I had no other family. I had no friends." He looks back at Merlin, throat jumping as he swallows. "I never tried to—hurt myself, or anything. It's just that...I didn't care. I didn't care what happened to me." Merlin's whole heart contracts, the pain jagged and sharp. "So I joined the army, 'cause it was all I knew and it made sense, gave me a purpose—to protect people. At least that way, if I died, it would be worth something." 

"Arthur," Merlin breathes out, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. 

"But you, Merlin," and Arthur is crying too, his voice garbled, hoarse, "walked into my life like you'd always belonged there, took this—this broken, imperfect shell of a man and loved him for what he was, gave him a reason to keep going." Leaning forward, Arthur presses his face to Merlin's stomach, breathing gone ragged. "When I asked you to marry me, I said that you saved me. You did. You saved me from myself. You save me every single day, Merlin. And I—I have never cared about my life, but  _you,_ oh God, you make it worth living."

Merlin slips his hands out from Arthur's grip and wraps one around the back of his head, uses the other to stroke his hair. "I had no idea," he admits quietly. "You— You've always seemed so happy, I...I never thought..." He trails off, feeling foolish and stupid. The guilt alone is enough to make the tears start up again. "Oh Arthur, why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Because this is my burden to bear alone."

"No, it's not," Merlin whispers. He tilts Arthur's head up and thumbs away the tears carefully. "Not anymore."

"Merlin..."

"You said it yourself, Arthur. I love you for everything that you are. This isn't going to change that." Merlin drops a kiss to the top of his head. "Please let me help you."

Arthur doesn't respond, but he draws back to stare up at Merlin. His eyes are round and so very, very blue, and in them Merlin sees a lifetime of loneliness and pain that he knows he'll never be able to smooth away, but that doesn't mean he won't try. When Arthur guides him down for a kiss, Merlin doesn't fight him, just sinks into it because maybe this is what Arthur needs right now, to be held and loved and cared for. 

While their last kiss was born out of desperation, this one is slower and much more deliberate. As Arthur tilts his head and slants his mouth, Merlin drags his thumbs over the sharp underside of his jaw, tracing it and relearning its angles. Arthur kisses each of his lips in turn, bottom then top, left then right, his beard rough and scratchy. Merlin parts his lips on instinct, his breathing unsteady now, shaky. The kiss becomes more urgent and Arthur clutches at him like a dying man, panted breaths harsh and warm on Merlin's skin; and the last thing Merlin wants to do is end this, but he's dizzy and lightheaded from the lack of air, senses overloaded, so he breaks away with a gasp.

Arthur grabs him by the hips then, his thumbs settling in the divots made by his hipbones, and buries his face in Merlin's stomach again, except this time he's not crying, he's kissing and mouthing and biting through the fabric of Merlin's t-shirt, his mouth ravenous and wanting. Merlin makes a choked off sound; the long months apart have made his body oversensitive and he feels a pulse of heat in his groin, a steady throbbing start between his legs. 

"Wait," Merlin gasps, breathless. He stills Arthur's movements. "Arthur,  _wait_."

Arthur drops his shoulders and pulls away, his hands reluctantly slipping from Merlin's hips. He purses his lips, looking embarrassed. "You don't want..." He glances away as though he's just been kicked, jaw locked and eyes fixed on the window. Merlin realizes his mistake.

"No, it's not that. I do, Arthur," Merlin insists. He huffs out a shaky laugh. "I thought that much was clear." He raises a hand to Arthur's cheek and turns his face back. "It's just—you only just got back, and you're hurt, I don't want you to..."

"I never thought I would have this again," Arthur admits hollowly. "Not just  _this_ , but you, us," he gestures around their room with his hands, "everything. I thought I was going to die without ever seeing you again and I... I just need..." His hands twitch at his sides and he squeezes his eyes closed, as though frustrated by his own inability to get the words out. "I need to touch, to feel, so that I know this is really happening—that I'm finally back home with you. I need  _you_ , Merlin. Please." 

Merlin breathes out slowly through his mouth, reigning in his emotions. His heart feels impossibly big, trapped in a too small cavity. He brushes his fingertips over Arthur's closed eyelids, trails them down his nose and lips to the base of his throat. And Merlin wants too,  _God_ , does he want. 

He curls his fingers in the neckline of Arthur's old shirt, giving it a small tug. Arthur opens his eyes, staring up at him with a wordless question, and Merlin nods once. 

He helps Arthur pull his shirt off first; and although Merlin had been expecting to see them, the bruises still shock him—some yellow, others brown, but most a deep purple. There is a large one just beneath Arthur's ribs that Merlin hesitantly touches. Arthur doesn't flinch, but Merlin hears his sharp inhale.

"They did this to you," Merlin states, knowing it to be true.

"I don't want to think about them right now," Arthur replies hoarsely.

Merlin bites his lip. "Lie down," he murmurs, voice strained.

Something in the air shifts and Merlin senses the sudden urgency, hanging heavy between them. He quickly gets rid of his clothes, stepping out of his sweatpants and briefs and into Arthur's waiting arms, letting Arthur tug him down onto the bed. Merlin settles on top of him, mindful of the bruises, and ends up straddling his thigh. This time Arthur wastes no time in pulling Merlin down for a kiss, mouth open and greedy. His calloused hands smooth down Merlin's shoulders to roam over his chest and back before settling heavily on his hips. Merlin moans softly; there is something immensely arousing about being naked and on top of Arthur while he is still half dressed, about feeling so vulnerable and exposed. 

Arthur starts rubbing his thigh against Merlin's hardening cock, slowly, deliberately, the drag of fabric creating a rough friction that has Merlin gasping into Arthur's mouth. It's enough to make Merlin want to grind down against him, ride the hard muscle of his thigh, but this isn't about him—this is about Arthur; so Merlin tamps down the urge and leaves Arthur's mouth, nosing along his jaw and sucking kisses to his throat. 

"Merlin." His breath hitches, unsteady. The notch in his throat jumps under Merlin's lips. "Merlin—"

"Shh, it's all right," Merlin quiets. He presses a tender kiss to his uninjured cheek. "I've got you. I'm going to take care of you." 

Merlin shifts further down his body, planting wet, open-mouthed kisses as he goes, his lips brushing over the bruises and scars, old and new. He stops at Arthur's navel and watches the muscles in his abdomen flex as he breathes in and out deeply. Merlin catches Arthur's eye before he nudges at the bulge tenting his pajama bottoms with his nose, then mouths at his erection, the thick, hard outline of it making Merlin grind his hips into the mattress for relief.

He hooks his fingers inside the waistband and begins to pull down when Arthur tenses, his hand shooting out to still Merlin's movements.

"Arthur?" he asks, confused

"I don't want—" Arthur sits up, leaning his weight back on his elbows to look down at him. His hair is mussed, eyes wild, intense. "I meant it when I said I needed  _you,_ Merlin. All of you. Not just..." 

Arthur glances away, cheeks stained red, and it's one of the most endearing things Merlin has ever seen. He smiles up at Arthur softly. "Okay," he agrees. He drops a kiss to his hipbone. "Lift up for me?"

Arthur does, allowing Merlin to slip off the rest of his clothes, erection springing free; and when Arthur finally lies there just as naked as he is, Merlin crawls back up his body and straddles his hips properly, their cocks nestled together between them, flushed and stiff.

"Okay?" Merlin asks unsteadily.

"Christ." Arthur sounds wrecked already. He reaches for Merlin, his hand curling around the nape of Merlin's neck, and brings him back down. "Come here, Doc." 

The familiar endearment brings tears to Merlin's eyes. How close had he come to never hearing that again? 

Merlin rests his hands lightly on Arthur's chest and kisses him, sliding and slotting their lips together as he moves, his hips beginning a slow, sensuous roll, the way he knows Arthur likes, will get him worked up and heady with desire. It's not long until Arthur is moaning into the kiss, sounding almost pained if Merlin didn't know any better. Arthur's hands clutch at his hips, urge him to move faster, and Merlin does, their mouths open and panting hotly against each other.  

The sweat settles on their bodies, pooling in the spaces between their chest and bellies, slickening the way for their cocks as they rub against each other. Merlin drags his lips over the dips made by Arthur's collarbones, licking and tasting the tang of his skin mixed with sweat and arousal. He noses the space behind Arthur's ear and breathes in deep, the familiar scent of him both comforting and intoxicating. Merlin's heart seizes up; he's missed him so, so much that having him here now is almost too much to bear.

He wonders if he said any of that out loud because Arthur murmurs, "I know, me too," his voice husky and thick with emotion. He grips the backs of Merlin's thighs and pries them farther apart, spreading them wide over his hips. He grinds their cocks together harder, and Merlin gasps at the heat of their bodies pressing up against his underside, dampening his inner thighs. 

When he feels Arthur start to move a hand between their bodies, Merlin catches it, Arthur staring at him wildly. His eyes fix on Arthur as he brings the hand to his mouth and licks his palm, getting it wet with his spit before guiding it back down to wrap around their cocks.  

" _Fuck_ ," Arthur mutters. They look down between their bodies as Arthur thumbs away the wetness at their tips, and Merlin has to glance away before he comes right then and there. Arthur fists their cocks tightly, the roughness of his palm a perfect counterpoint to the slickness, and it's too good, almost too much. Merlin closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Arthur's, breathing hard and trying to collect himself. 

"Hey," Arthur whispers, touching his cheek with gentle fingers that are only a little shaky. "All right?" 

Merlin smiles at him unsteadily. "Me?" He bumps their noses, brushes their lips together. "I should be asking you that."

Arthur swallows. "I'm home," he says aloud, as though trying to get them both to believe it. 

Merlin shifts his weight to the side then, rolling them over so Arthur is on top of him, cradled protectively between the wide spread of his legs, the circle of his arms. Arthur stares down at him, lips parted and shoulders shaking with the effort to hold himself up. Merlin pulls him firmly to his chest, Arthur's heavy, solid weight pressing him down into the bed, and slips a hand between them, joining Arthur's to wrap around their cocks. 

"Go on," Merlin urges, breathy. "Let go, love. Let me feel you."

Arthur starts thrusting against him, steadily at first, and then more urgently when Merlin locks his ankles around his legs and lifts his hips up to meet him. They strip their cocks together, palms sliding up and down through the combined wetness. Arthur buries his face into the side of Merlin's neck, panting loudly against his skin. He makes a choked off sound that Merlin recognizes as a sob.

When he had become a doctor, Merlin had taken an oath to do no harm; but in that moment, he would have ripped apart anyone who tried to hurt Arthur with his bare hands.

"Merlin—," he gasps, his hips jerking, his tears damp on Merlin's skin. 

"That's it," Merlin murmurs, his own tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He settles a hand on the back of Arthur's head and holds him to his body, pumping them faster, trying to push Arthur over the edge and into bliss. "Let it all go. I'm here, Arthur. You're safe."

"I—I  _love_  you," Arthur stutters. He drives his hips forward, through the tight circle of their fists. "So much, Merlin—my heart, my everything."

"I love you," Merlin breathes. He twists his hand, drags the edge of his engagement ring up the side of Arthur's cock. "My  _husband_."

Arthur muffles a shout into Merlin's neck as he shudders and comes, splashing wet heat over both their chests and bellies. Merlin holds him through it, keeps stroking Arthur's cock and wringing out every last drop of his orgasm until Arthur slumps against him, boneless. Once he is certain Arthur is sated, Merlin thrusts up into the slickness coating their bellies, sliding his way through Arthur's spend, and it's not long before he comes too, gasping softly, Arthur's lips moving slow and wet against his neck.

Neither of them move for a good long while, their breaths calming and heartbeats resetting. Merlin uncrosses his ankles and lets his legs fall open. His skin his hot and sticky and Arthur's body feels much too heavy atop his own, but Merlin is unwilling to shift away, not wanting to break apart just yet. When they finally do move, it's Arthur who lifts his head first, the warmth and endless love in his eyes making Merlin smile.  

"You're amazing, Doc."

Merlin raises a hand to his cheek. "Well worth the wait," he murmurs.  

They kiss each other tenderly before Merlin shifts to sit up. "I'll be back," he says. "I'm just going to get a wet towel to clean us off." 

"I can do that."

"No, you rest—"

Arthur quirks his lips. "I'm a soldier, remember? That word doesn't exist in our vocabulary." He pushes Merlin back down onto the bed, firm but gentle. "You've done more than enough," he says seriously. "Let me."

Merlin concedes and nods tiredly. He lies back and closes his eyes, listening to the sounds of their neighbors hammering something on the roof, the soft hoots of a sleeping owl nearby. While Merlin's world has righted itself at last, it's hard to believe that the world around them remains unchanged, an average a day as any other to millions of people. It makes Merlin realize just how small they are in comparison to everything else, just little specks in the grand scheme of things. 

At the first touch of the wet towel to his skin, Merlin slits open his eyes, smiling faintly as the bed dips beside him. Arthur cleans him off carefully, gently, the towel moving between his legs, over his belly and up his chest before he cleans off Merlin's sticky hand and fingers. Arthur must've cleaned himself off in the ensuite because once he's through, he drops the towel over the side of his bed, Merlin reaching for him immediately and pulling Arthur to lie down beside him.

"Lazy," Merlin teases, running the pad of his thumb over Arthur's swollen lips. "Should've thrown that in the laundry hamper."

"I have a feeling we'll need it again," Arthur says with a wink, making Merlin laugh softly. 

Arthur raises Merlin's hand to his lips and brushes a kiss to his knuckles. "How long do I get to keep you for?" 

"I don't have to go back in ‘til Monday," Merlin says, suddenly so thankful for the long weekend. "Gwen's orders."

"That woman is an angel." 

"Truly," Merlin agrees. 

They fall into an easy silence, gazing at each other intently. The right corner of Arthur's mouth lifts up over his teeth in a half-smile that makes his eyes slant. He is breathtaking like this, with the sunlight filtering through the windows and painting him in golden light. Merlin doesn't think he wants to look away from Arthur's face ever again.  

"Did you mean what you said?" Arthur asks quietly some time later, his thumb rubbing over Merlin's ring. "You called me your...your husband." He says the word softly, reverently. 

"You really have to ask? Arthur." Merlin smiles at him. "I don't need a ceremony or marriage certificate to tell me what I already know." Merlin presses closer to him and tangles their legs together. 

"I also meant what I said before," Merlin says, searching Arthur's eyes with his own. "You don't have to go through this alone ever again. Let me help you, Arthur."

Arthur looks as though he may argue, but then he must see something on Merlin's face that changes his mind because he doesn't, just lets out a deep, shaky breath, his entire body seeming to deflate. He drops his head to Merlin's shoulder and kisses it. 

"How did I ever get so lucky?" he asks, sounding weary and thankful.

Merlin puts his arms around him, keeps him close. "You and me both."

 

* * *

 

In the weeks that follow, Arthur tries to readjust to life at home with Merlin; the transition has never gone smoothly for him, and this time is no exception. It becomes a common occurrence for Merlin to get back late from the hospital and find Arthur still wide awake, staring at the television screen with a blank look on his face. On the nights that Arthur is able to sleep, he usually jolts awake with a shout, drenched in sweat and plagued by night terrors. Merlin holds Arthur in the safety of his arms on those nights, murmuring words of comfort until exhaustion finally drags Arthur into a deep sleep. 

Merlin worries that he can't do enough for him; he can offer support, but he isn't a specialist, not someone who can help Arthur sort out his thoughts and come to grips with what he's endured. But when Merlin suggests to Arthur that seeing a therapist might help, it sparks a rare argument that leaves Merlin teary and Arthur upset. They go for almost three days without speaking, but then Arthur shows up at the hospital one evening soaking wet from the rain, chokes out, "I'm so sorry. You're right. I—I need help, Doc," and Merlin takes one look at the sorrow in his big eyes and hugs him tight as they both start to cry.

They spend days researching local psychiatrists in the area before they come across Freya, a private practice psychiatrist in the next town over. It takes some gentle coaxing for Arthur to call and schedule a preliminary evaluation with her. Merlin accompanies him to the appointment, his hand squeezing Arthur's own when they meet Freya at last—a petite, dark-haired woman with soft brown eyes and a freckled nose that puts Merlin at immediate ease. Arthur seems to take a shine to her too, and when his appointment is over, there's a lightness about him that Merlin hasn't seen in ages. Something that tells him things are going to be okay.

The only thing left hanging between them is Arthur's deployment date. Early on, Merlin had asked Arthur when he was scheduled to return, but Arthur had told him that after everything that'd happened, his superiors weren't sure. Merlin had let it go at that time, just relieved and thankful to have Arthur back home, but now it's a month later and the inevitable looms over them, filling Merlin with dread. 

Merlin wakes up later than usual one morning, disappointed when he reaches over and finds Arthur's side of the bed empty. Mornings with Arthur are always his favorite; he likes kissing him awake, likes fitting their bodies together, the contrast of Arthur's warm skin pressed to his and the cool air around them never failing to make him shiver with pleasure. But today, Merlin is alone in their bed. He sits up and rubs the remnants of sleep from his eyes, catching sight of himself in the mirror, his hair sticking up at odd angles and the blooming purple bruise Arthur had sucked to his chest the night before. 

Merlin reaches down and fishes his bathrobe off the floor, slipping it on and fastening it tight around his waist. He thinks maybe Arthur has taken Avery out for a morning jog, so when Merlin walks into the kitchen to make tea, he's surprised to find Arthur sitting at the table, dressed in a white tank top and flannel pajama bottoms. 

"Hey," Merlin says softly, not wanting to startle him. When Arthur jerks his head up at him, he smiles. "I thought you were out running."

"No, just couldn't sleep," Arthur sighs. He holds out his hand, beckoning Merlin closer. "Come here, I want to show you something."

Merlin takes his hand, lets Arthur tug him forward and sideways into his lap, his arm curling securely around Merlin's waist. There's a stack of mail in front of him, most of it junk and a few bills, all unopened except for a single white envelope—a letter from the Department of the Army addressed to Arthur.

"What's this about?" Merlin asks, confused. "Is everything all right?"

"Take a look," Arthur says.

Merlin glances at Arthur uncertainly before he picks up the letter, concerned—and then he sees it.

_'...your resignation has been accepted...'_

Merlin has to reread the sentence again and again before the words finally sink in and start to make sense. His heart is thundering in his chest and he drops the letter, lets it fall to the floor, shaking all over. 

"Arthur, you..." He stares at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Does... Does this mean—?"

The slow smile that spreads across Arthur's face turns out to be the only answer he needs. "I'm yours to keep, Merlin."

"But— How long ago did you decide?" Merlin fumbles, at a loss for words. "When did you even write the... You never told me." 

"I know." Arthur presses a soft, apologetic kiss to his cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure it would be approved," he explains. "I sent in a resignation letter a week before I was last deployed. I figured I'd submit it early because it can take anywhere from six to nine months before you hear back."

"But why?" Merlin asks, still not understanding. "You told me yourself, the army is the only thing you've ever known. What changed your mind?"

"That's just it, Doc," Arthur says. "The army  _is_  the only thing I've ever known, and I—well, I don't want that to be the case anymore. I want to spend my life with you  _here_ , not thousands of miles away and oceans apart. I've seen..." A pained look passes over his face. Merlin knows he's thinking about Isolde. "I've seen what it's like to lose a loved one, and I never want you to have to go through that. It wasn't an easy decision by any means, but your happiness is the most important thing to me. You come first, Merlin. You always have."

Merlin cups Arthur's face in his hands; the cuts have long since healed, but a tiny scar above his brow still remains. That would be the last scar Arthur would ever earn as a soldier. Merlin's eyes fill up with tears. "You did this for me?" he asks, smiling through the tears.

Arthur taps his nose. "You really have to ask?" he echoes.

Merlin laughs, sniffling. Their lips meet halfway in a tender press that feels like it's their first kiss all over again. Afterwards, Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur's shoulders and rests their foreheads together, closing his eyes. It wouldn't be easy—there would be good days and not so good ones, fights and make-ups, Arthur coping with bad memories and old wounds that Merlin would never be able to fix, learning to live a life without gunshots and bombs; but Arthur was here to stay, would never leave him again, and God, that made it all worth it.

Merlin can't stop smiling even as the tears fall from his eyes and into his lap. "What am I going to do with you now?" he teases, rolling their foreheads from side to side. "I'll get bored."

Arthur surprises him by lifting him up in his arms and standing, Merlin's arms looped around his neck and his legs dangling.  

"Arthur!" Merlin laughs, surprised. "What are you doing?" 

"Making sure you're not bored," Arthur says, grinning brighter than the sun as he leads them both back to the bedroom. "Plus, I'm practicing for our wedding night—which reminds me, we still need to pick a date."

"What's the rush?" Not for the first time, Merlin is overcome with love and adoration for this man and all that he is, so thankful for every moment he gets to spend with him, now and forever. "We have all the time in the world."

 **•**  

Later, when Arthur is sleeping peacefully beside him, Merlin brushes the long hair off his forehead and whispers, for the very last time, "Welcome home, Arthur."

 

**•••**


End file.
